Archive of Our Own ^beta

-- henry wadsworth longfellow

The cold wind stings the exposed skin of Tetsurou’s face. He’s long since lost the feeling in his nose and the tips of his ears. His scarf only covers his chapped lips and neck, disappearing into the collar of his heavy coat. The gloves he wears protect his fingers, but they feel stiff clenched around the handle of his briefcase.

It’s rush hour, and the train platform is crowded with people in a similar predicament as he. An abrupt chill had come through the night before, bringing Tokyo quite suddenly from fall into winter. Tetsurou had dug through his closet to find his winter coat, knowing his normal windbreaker wouldn’t be enough. He was right, but it cost him time, and he missed the first train into work. Now he’s going to be late.

A pleasant female voice announces the arrival of the next train. He steps back from the line, allowing the train to come to a stop in front of him, waiting for the doors to open. He tries to step in casually when they do, but he’s immediately pushed to the side, as people cram into the smaller space, eager to escape the cold.

He finds himself pressed up against the doors on the opposite side, a young person directly in front of him. The kid is wearing a red jacket, its hood pulled up over their head, shielding their face. From the posture, Tetsurou assumes it’s a boy, but he honestly can’t tell as they’re swamped in their baggy clothes and their head is down. They’re wearing fingerless gloves, which seems pointless in this weather, but their thumb keeps scrolling over the screen of their phone, so Tetsurou supposes that’s the point.

Being so close to the door, he doesn’t have enough room to hold onto the rail that runs along the ceiling of the train car, so when the train makes its first turn, he stumbles further into the kid.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, pushing his hand against the doorframe to steady himself.

The kid looks up, and Tetsurou’s met with the most striking pair of gold eyes he’s ever seen in his life. He’s frozen, staring down into those eyes. The kid’s face is half-covered by a scarf as well, but Tetsurou can see the slope of their nose, the arch of their eyebrows, the badly dyed hair that frames their face beneath the jacket hood. But those eyes . . . he’s transfixed by them. They’re large, deep. Tetsurou no longer senses the people crowded around them on all sides. They’re the only two people on this train, as far as he’s concerned.

Then the kid’s gaze drops back down to their phone, and the spell is broken. Tetsurou breathes again, though he tries not to exhale too hard, not sure what his breath smells like.

He wants to say something. But what should he say? He isn’t even sure of the kid’s age. If they’re a high schooler, then he probably shouldn’t say anything at all and try to forget the whole thing happened. But if they’re older than they appear . . .

Stop it, Tetsurou. You’re strangers on a train. You’ll probably never see each other again.

It’s ridiculous to even entertain the idea that something might happen should he speak. But the urge is there, pressing against his chest, rising up his throat, burning the tip of his tongue. He purses his lips beneath his scarf, wondering if it’s just him or if the temperature has risen several degrees. The bodies around him feel stifling, and he hopes train will stop soon. At the same time, though, he hopes it never stops. He needs more time. More time to think of something to say that won’t be dumb or immature.

A simple hey should do, right? But would that be weird after all this time? The longer I wait the weirder it’ll be though. What should I say then? I like your gloves? Is that stupid?

He’s so busy trying to think of an appropriate icebreaker, that he doesn’t realize the train has arrived at the next stop until he rocks forward once more and has to catch himself on the door, to keep from bumping into the kid again. He watches, helplessly, as the kid pockets the phone, and pushes their way to the doors that open on the other side, slipping through the crowd and disappearing onto the platform.

The crowd has thinned enough for Tetsurou to step forward and take hold of the railing, but he finds himself staring at the door, kicking himself for not saying anything.

He tries to put it out of his mind, as the train pulls ahead. He’ll never see the kid again, so it doesn’t matter. None of what just happened matters.

The busyness and stress of the workday successfully banish all thoughts of the mystery kid out of Tetsurou’s brain. He pastes on his best smile, laughs at the clients’ jokes, agrees heartily with their good ideas, and politely suggests alternatives to their bad ones. He listens to the gossip around the office, taking mental notes on who is dating who, who is cheating on who, who is interested in who. It’s mostly pointless information, but you never know when you might need leverage.

Tooru meets him at the café down the street on their lunch break. They try to coordinate as often as they can to take lunch at the same time, as they live in different parts of the city now that Tooru’s moved in with his boyfriend Iwaizumi Hajime. They complain about their respective clients (no names, of course), and Tooru tells Tetsurou what he’s planning on doing to Iwaizumi’s apartment, since he’s miraculously given Tooru free-range for the remodeling.

“That place had shag carpeting, Tetsu. Shag.”

“Sexy.”

Tooru rolls his eyes at the pun. “I pulled up the corner in the living room and there’s gorgeous wood underneath, so of course it all has to go.”

Tetsurou nods along in agreement, sipping his coffee and trying not to think of what happened that morning. He doesn’t bring it up to Tooru. There’s no reason to. He’s never going to see that kid again.

Until he does.

He gets out of work later than most people, so he always misses the evening rush. He enjoys this commute better. The train is full, but not stifling, and he usually manages to find a seat. He’s absently staring at nothing in particular, when the train stops at the station right before his. His eyes go automatically to the doors to watch people enter. Only three do. A business man. A woman in a track-suit. And the kid in the red hoodie.

Tetsurou’s breath catches in his throat. He watches, eyes wide, as the kid glances around the train car briefly before finding a place to sit not far from where Tetsurou is. They look exactly the same as they did this morning. It’s too late for them to have been in school, unless they do sports, but they don’t look like the sports type. Could they have been working?

Tetsurou remembers to breathe, as the train moves forward once more.

He has to say something this time. It’s a sign. There’s no other explanation. He’s supposed to talk to this kid. (Young man? Young woman? Young . . . person?)

Glancing surreptitiously to the side, he notices a seat open directly across from the kid. He stands, doing his best to look casual, and crosses over. The kid doesn’t look up from their phone. Tetsurou sits, pressing his palms against his knees, his briefcase between his feet. The kid is still wearing their backpack. They’re hunched in their seat, posture terrible.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Tetsurou starts with a smirk. It comes out perfectly. No anxiety in his tone at all, despite his heart pounding away in his chest.

The kid doesn’t look up. Doesn’t acknowledge him at all.

Tetsurou clears his throat, glancing at the middle-aged woman seated beside him. She’s ignoring him on purpose, he can tell. He tries to not let that bother him. He’s just making conversation.

“I didn’t catch your name earlier,” Tetsurou tries again, speaking just a little louder. Or your gender. Or your age.

Nothing. The kid doesn’t even flinch.

By this time, Tooru would have done something obnoxious to get the kid’s attention. Dramatically fall in front of them or something. Maybe reach over and flick their nose. Tetsurou knows both will get those eyes on him once more, but he can’t make himself move. So he stares instead, wondering if the kid can feel his eyes on them.

His heart sinks his chest, as time goes on, and he wonders if he should just give up. But then, finally, the kid raises their gaze. They blink, eyes widening slightly, startled by Tetsurou’s stare. Reaching up, they slip their hand into their hood, removing an ear-bud.

Oh. Of course. I’m so stupid.

“What?” the kid asks. Their voice is soft and deep, muffled behind the scarf. It sounds male, but Tetsurou doesn’t want to assume. Even so, it’s just as mesmerizing as their eyes, and he forgets to respond. The kid frowns, shifting uneasily.

Tetsurou realizes suddenly that he’s probably making the kid uncomfortable with his silent staring. “I, uh, you . . . I like your gloves.”

Wonderful. Now they know I’m an idiot.

The kid glances at the gloves in question. With the scarf covering most of their face, Tetsurou can’t read their expression. The train pulls to a stop. The kid stands. With one last frown in Tetsurou’s direction (that seems less wary now and more confused), they exit, leaving Tetsurou behind to question his entire existence.

“You said what?”

Tetsurou groans, running his hand over his face. “Don’t make me repeat it.”

“I can’t believe the first thing you said to your potential soulmate is that you liked their gloves.” Tooru is cackling over the phone.

Tetsurou tries not to get hung-up on the word “soulmate.” “I panicked, okay. I really wasn’t expecting to see him again. Or . . . her, I guess. Them.”

“Obviously you need to pursue this. You should miss your first train tomorrow and follow them when they get off!”

“Right, because following a stranger off a train isn’t creepy and murdery at all.” Tetsurou rolls his eyes. “No, thanks. Besides, I’m not missing work. Ennoshita will kick my ass if I piss off this client.”

“Tetsurou. This could be true love.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“What are the odds of you both having the same train route?!”

“I have the same train route with a lot of people, probably.”

“You’re supposed to be a hopeless romantic, Tetsu-chan. What happened to that guy I met in college mooning over that girl . . . what was her name again?”

“Hitoka,” Tetsurou says, smiling faintly at the memory of the small girl. He shakes his head to clear it. “That was a long time ago. Besides, Hitoka was someone I actually had a chance with. She was into me, until she met that freckled kid and his salty boyfriend. But anyway, the point is, I’m trying to be realistic here. You get your heart broken one too many times and you start to realize not everyone gets that fairy tale ending.”

“And you become jaded and boring,” Tooru laments.

Tetsurou looks down at his lap, as his cat Kiki jumps onto his lap. He strokes her slowly, as she rubs against his hand. Glancing outside his apartment window, he wonders if it’ll be as cold tomorrow. Maybe it’ll warm up enough for Tetsurou to see the kid’s entire face. He wonders what it looks like.

“Tetsu-chan~”

“What?” Tetsurou blinks, realizing he completely spaced-out.

“I was just saying you shouldn’t give up! I didn’t give up when Iwa-chan avoided me that semester ‘cause of his gay panic issues, and look at us now!”

Tetsurou snorts. “Yeah, but you’re you. And I’m . . . me.”

“You might not be as pretty as me, Tetsu-chan, but you’re not a hideous beast either.”

Tetsurou can practically hear Tooru’s eye roll in his voice. He smirks faintly.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Tetsu, I mean it. You’re good-looking.”

Tetsurou shrugs. He doesn’t think he’s hideous, but he knows he didn’t exactly win the gold medal in the looks department. He doesn’t have Tooru’s natural beauty, or Iwaizumi’s manly attractiveness. Hitoka even called him scary-looking the first time they spoke. She’d been intimidated by him. He’s been called ‘sexy’ by people that like the “bad-boy” type. He’s never understood that. There’s not a delinquent bone in his body. He wears reading glasses, for fuck’s sake.

Does the kid like the bad-boy type or the soft-hearted nerd-type?

He blinks down at Kiki, who’s curled up and begun purring.

Why am I even wondering that?

“Fine, don’t believe me. But you should try harder next time you see the kid.” Tooru sounds huffy, like he knows Tetsurou’s ignoring him now.

“What? Oh. I probably won’t. Different trains, remember?”

“I bet you’ll miss the first one again.”

Tetsurou narrows his eyes. “I won’t.”

“Okay~”

Tetsurou sets his alarm later that night, and checks it again it before lying down to sleep. When he drifts off, he dreams of golden cat eyes following him.

He sleeps restlessly and misses the alarm.

The train is crowded, just like before. This time, Tetsurou’s more careful about stepping inside the car and manages to find a spot to hold the railing. He tells himself not to look, but he can’t help but scan the area for a red hoodie.

There’s a flash of red in his peripheral, and he looks down, stunned, to see the kid standing directly beside him.

“Uh. Hi?” he says, all clever and/or flirty comments leaving his brain immediately.

The kid nods in acknowledgement, pulling out their phone. When the train rounds that first corner, they sway with the movement, pressing against Tetsurou’s side. Tetsurou feels warm once more, and he releases the railing briefly to tug down the scarf around his mouth.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” he says, giving the kid his best smirk, the one the girls call ‘sexy.’

The kid doesn’t see it, their eyes remaining on the phone.

Tetsurou bites his lip. “I’m Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou.”

Nothing.

Frustrated, Tetsurou huffs. “Can you at least tell me if you’re a guy or a girl or neither? I have no idea.”

The kid snorts. “Kind of a rude question, don’t you think?”

“You’re not giving me anything else,” Tetsurou says helplessly, though his heart beats faster at the sound of the kid’s voice.

The kid’s quiet for a moment, tilting their head to the side. “Does it matter?”

Tetsurou swallows hard. Apparently not. “It could,” he says out loud, as casually as he can.

“He,” the kid replies, eyes flitting to the side, before turning back to the phone.

Tetsurou exhales shakily. Progress. Somewhat.

The kid must misinterpret his sigh, because he shifts away slightly.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“I’m not disappointed,” Tetsurou says quickly, but the kid is already turning toward the doors, as the train slows to a stop. “Wait!” he reaches out, his fingers barely brushing against the red hoodie, before the kid slips out of reach. “Tell me your name? Your age? Where do you work?!”

But the kid is gone.

Idiot. Tetsurou rests his forehead against his bicep, groaning internally. Why does the kid’s stop have to be so close to his apparent home station?

Wait. They have different exit stations, but the same home station. That has to mean the kid lives in his block, right? He wouldn’t walk too far to the train. Not if he’s apparently too lazy to walk a single station down from his home to his workplace.

I’m pretty sure following the kid home is worse than following him to his workplace.

Reminding himself that it’s better to be an idiot than a creep, Tetsurou prepares himself for another long, frustrating day.

The next three weeks pass without much progress. Despite knowing that he has no chance, Tetsurou continues to take the later train. He tries not to stare forlornly at the kid, who continues to keep his distance after Tetsurou’s massive fuck up. He knows he should make it up to him, somehow.

“Maybe I could get him, I don’t know. Flowers or something?”

Tooru snorts, shaking his head over his iced vanilla latte with extra whipped cream (despite it being the middle of winter).

“Sounds like overkill to me.”

Tetsurou sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “He’s completely ignoring me now. I don’t know what to do.”

“Tetsu-chan. Nobody likes the smell of desperation. And you reek of it.”

Tetsurou gives him a look. “I’m not . . . desperate.”

Tooru smirks. “How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid? Maybe you should go to a bar or something. Get it out of your system.”

“Ugh, no, it’s not about that!” Tetsurou sits up, setting his elbows on the table and leaning over them to frown at Tooru across from him. “It’s about . . . I don’t know. Making a connection. Not being so fucking lonely all the time.”

Tooru sets his drink down, his smirk slipping. “Are things really that bad? You know you can come over to our place whenever, right?”

“You’ve got your remodeling shit going on and with Iwaizumi on that suckfest of a shift you guys don’t need me crashing there when he’s home.”

“What about your friends at work?” Tooru asks, stirring his straw around and around in his cup, ice rattling.

Tetsurou rolls his eyes. “What friends? Most of those guys are obnoxious idiots. I wouldn’t invite any of them to my place.”

“Mm, yes not everyone can be as classy and amazing as me,” Tooru says with a smug grin.

“Whatever,” Tetsurou chuckles softly.

“What about Yaku? You guys are still friends right?”

Tetsurou grimaces, running his fingers up and down the outside of his own coffee cup. It’s no longer hot to the touch, so he figures the liquid inside is lukewarm now. “His new boyfriend wants to be like, my best friend or something. He’s sweet, but super annoying. And of course Yakkun is head over heels for him, so you can’t really get one without the other.”

“Okaaaaaay, there’s only one thing to do then.”

Tetsurou looks up with a quizzical lift of his eyebrow. Tooru smirks back at him.

“Stop being a wimp and talk to this train kid. Strike up a conversation. Don’t try to flirt. You know you suck at it.”

“Fuck you,” Tetsurou says, flicking Tooru’s straw wrapper at him.

He knows he’s right, though. That’s the frustrating part. The only way he’s going to make progress is to suck it up and talk to the kid.

Normally.

After work, he stops by a convenience store on a corner near the station, picking up a box of Pocky sticks. He eats them slowly on the train, waiting for the second to last stop on his ride. When the kid finally enters and takes a seat, Tetsurou takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. Knowing he only has a few minutes before they must part ways once more, he steps over quickly, taking the empty seat next to the kid.

“Truce?” he offers, tilting the box toward him.

The kid glances at the box, hesitating, before reaching over and taking a stick. He pulls down his scarf, revealing a button nose and small pink lips, slightly chapped. Tetsurou tries not to stare, as he slides the stick into his mouth.

“I really didn’t mean to insult you last time,” Tetsurou says apologetically. “I’m sorry if I came off badly. I just . . . I want to know you.”

“Why?” the kid mumbles around the stick, as he turns his eyes onto his phone.

Tetsurou follows his gaze, noticing he’s playing Tetris. He fights a smile.

“I’m . . . interested in you,” he admits helplessly.

“So you want to fuck?”

Tetsurou grimaces. “No! I mean, it’s not that I wouldn’t . . . that’s just not . . . I’m not trying to—” He cuts himself off, as he notices the smirk that’s starting to curl the kid’s lips.

“That was mean,” he states.

The kid shrugs. “You wanted to know my gender.”

“I want to know you. What’s your name? How old are you? When’s your birthday? What’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite food? Where do you work? Why do you ride the train every day a distance you could easily walk?” Tetsurou can hear the desperation rising in his tone, and he stops, pursing his lips.

The kid doesn’t answer, simply reaches into the box to pull out another Pocky stick.

“Are you always this interested in strangers?” he asks after a moment.

Only the ones with eyes that can see straight into my soul. Tetsurou’s pretty sure he’ll scare the kid off for good if he say something like that.

“Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m lonely. I broke up with my girlfriend a few years back and I haven’t really made any sort of real connections since then. I’ve got a few friends, one best friend, but he’s been busy lately and has his own boyfriend and life and everything. And that first day we bumped into each other, literally, it was . . . I don’t know. You looked at me, and I felt something.”

“An erection?”

“What? No! Shit, stop making me sound like a pervert.” Tetsurou frowns in exasperation, even as the kid snickers into his scarf.

He runs his hand through his hair agitatedly. “Okay, maybe at first I was trying to flirt—”

“That was flirting?”

“Badly,” Tetsurou shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I wasn’t trying to be a creep. I’m just . . . bad at first impressions, I guess.” He wrinkles his nose. “My girlfriend thought I was a creep at first too.”

“It’s the eyes,” the kid says, his own eyes still fixed on his phone screen, thumb tapping away. “Makes you look like you’re up to something.”

“I can’t help that!” Tetsurou declares despondently.

“You’re just trying too hard,” the kid says, standing and adjusting his backpack over his shoulder, as the train approaches his station. “Just be yourself. It’s better that way.”

“Myself isn’t cool, though,” Tetsurou says helplessly.

The kid looks at him over his shoulder, smirking faintly. “Who says you have to be cool?”

With that he’s gone, leaving Tetsurou staring after him. He remembers suddenly this is his stop as well, and he grabs his briefcase, barely making it out the doors before they close. He looks around the station, but there’s no sign of the kid in the red hoodie.

It’s only then that he realizes the kid never answered any of his questions.

Of course the day after his semi-successful conversation with the kid it’s Saturday, and Tetsurou doesn’t have work. Instead, he goes to Tooru’s.

Iwaizumi opens the door, bare-chested and delicious, looking as though he’s just stepped out of the shower. Tetsurou shakes his head.

“Damn, Iwaizumi. Tell me why a god like yourself is dating a devil like Oikawa?”

“I’ll let you know when I do,” Iwaizumi says, stepping back to let Tetsurou inside.

“I texted Oikawa. I thought he was home,” he says apologetically, as Iwaizumi steps toward the bedroom to pull on a shirt.

“He’s on his way back from shopping with the contractor,” he says, speaking up so Tetsurou can still hear him from the living room. “He was picking out tile or something.”

Although Tooru and Iwaizumi only recently moved in, the apartment is old, with peeling wallpaper and creaking floorboards. They didn’t choose the place because of money, but because Tooru wanted to be close to his sister and his nephew. He said the place had “character,” and that he’s planning on bringing out its best self through a complete makeover. It’s his pet project, so Tetsurou doesn’t have the heart to tease him too much about it. He knows Tooru has good taste, too, so the place will probably look amazing when it’s finished.

Now, however, the kitchen is half-destroyed and everything is covered in tarps.

“You know, Oikawa invited me to come hang out more often, but honestly I think you guys would be better off rooming with me until everything’s done,” Tetsurou says, stifling a sneeze, as Iwaizumi comes back out in a white shirt that hugs his frame in all the right ways.

Tetsurou tries not to stare.

It really has been too long since I’ve gotten laid.

Usually the lack of sex doesn’t bother him. But lately, with all these feelings of loneliness constantly pressing against his chest, it’s getting difficult to fight the desire to just be close to someone. To hold them. Smell their hair. Touch their skin. Feel their warmth.

I’m fine. I’ve got friends. I’m not alone. I’m fine.

“Oikawa’s, like, anal-retentive about this stuff,” Iwaizumi says, shaking his head, as he crosses over to the kitchen to grab some water. “He has to be hands-on with everything. We’ll probably crash at his sister’s place once they get started on the bedroom.”

“Right, yeah, cool,” Tetsurou says, nodding and taking the water Iwaizumi hands to him. He takes a drink, trying not to feel resentful. Back in college, before Iwaizumi came into the picture, Tetsurou and Tooru were practically joined at the hip. They did everything together. They relied on each other.

Nowadays, Tooru spends more time with Iwaizumi and this remodeling than with Tetsurou. Aside from their lunch breaks, this is the first time Tetsurou’s seen Tooru on a weekend in months.

And he’s not even here.

It’s fine. He’s just busy. Things will be better once the remodeling is done.

He takes another drink of water. “So . . . how are things at the firehouse? Save any lives this week?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “A couple of minor fires. Nothing too bad.”

“Do you ever have people, like, set things on fire on purpose just so you’ll come and put them out?” Tetsurou asks with a smirk.

Iwaizumi laughs self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, nothing like that.”

“Iwa-chan! I’m hooooome~”

Both Iwaizumi and Tetsurou turn toward the door, as Tooru steps into the apartment, smiling sunnily with rosy cheeks and a red-tipped nose. Tetsurou stands by awkwardly, as Tooru throws his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck to give him a deep kiss.

“I love when I come home and my man is here to kiss me hello,” Tooru says happily.

“You want some wine with that cheese?” Iwaizumi asks, rolling his eyes, but he’s fighting a blush.

“You two are so sappy it’s making me sick,” Tetsurou says, shaking his head with a crooked grin and doing his best to ignore the faint pang in his chest.

“Oh! Tetsu-chan! You’re here!”

“Been standing here this whole time, thanks for noticing.”

“Don’t be surly, I just wasn’t expecting you until later,” Tooru says, stepping over to drape his arm across Tetsurou’s shoulders.

“I had nowhere else to be.” Tetsurou shrugs.

“What about your train boyfriend?” Tooru asks, stealing Iwaizumi’s glass to take a drink.

“Train boyfriend?” Iwaizumi asks, glancing between them.

“He’s not my train boyfriend,” Tetsurou says, rolling his eyes.

“But you got his number, right?”

Tetsurou grimaces, shaking his head.

“Kuroo Tetsurou!”

“Your advice worked, okay?” Tetsurou says quickly, not about to get scolded. “We just didn’t have a lot of time . . .”

“Of course you didn’t. You’re on a train. You need to ask him out on a proper date!”

“Right, yeah, of course,” Tetsurou says, rolling his eyes. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

You make it sound so easy . . .

The truth is, he’s never actually successfully asked someone out. Sure, he flirted some in high school (or at least attempted to), but he was always too busy or too nervous to take that next step. His thing with Morisuke was never official, simply dealing with the tension that built up between them those three years they were in school together (paired with an embarrassing amount of repressed teenage hormones). It only lasted a semester before they went their separate ways for university. It was during that painful parting that Tetsurou realized he couldn’t do casual relationships.

What happened with Hitoka was somewhat of an accident.

He’d run into her; she literally screamed and spilled her coffee all over them both. He offered to buy her another one, desperate to prove he wasn’t a bad guy and she had no reason to be afraid of him, and then meeting for coffee became a thing until they were dating.

And then that freckled kid showed up, with his sweet country-boy charm, and his lanky boyfriend who always had something snarky to say . . . and one thing led to another and well . . . Tetsurou knew he had to let her go. She was so happy with them. And while he knew she was happy with him too, they had some good times together, she just . . . lit up around the other two. Looked at them in a way Tetsurou never saw her look at him.

“Earth to Tetsurou. Come in, Tetsurou.”

Tetsurou blinks, and Tooru pulls back his fingers, from where he’d been snapping them in his face. “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere,” Tetsurou says quickly, shaking his head. He shoves his hands into his pockets and grins. “So, what’re we doing today?”

They end up at the movies. It’s fun and Tooru and Iwaizumi aren’t too gross and affectionate. Afterwards, they go out to eat at a place near Tetsurou’s apartment. It’s a small izakaya, family owed and operated, and they greet the trio by name. They used to go here all the time in college, and the place hasn’t changed much since. It gives Tetsurou a cozy sense of nostalgia, as he thinks back on simpler times. The three talk and eat and drink well into the night, until Tooru’s practically lying across Iwaizumi’s lap, about to pass out.

“I had fun, Tetsu-chaaan,” Tooru croons in his ear, as Iwaizumi gets their coats, leaving Tetsurou to hold Tooru upright.

“Yeah, it was fun,” he says with a grin, more than a little flushed from the alcohol himself.

“Mm, we should do this more often. I miss you,” Tooru mumbles, rubbing his cheek against Tetsurou’s.

“I’m always right here,” Tetsurou reminds him, stroking his fingers up and down Tooru’s spine absently.

“Yeah, but I’m always so busy,” Tooru leans back, making a face.

“Whose fault is that?” Tetsurou asks before he can stop himself. He grimaces, at the hurt look that crosses Tooru’s face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Are you mad at me, Tetsu?” Tooru asks in a small voice that cuts through Tetsurou’s heart.

“No, of course not,” Tetsurou says quickly, passing his drunk friend off to Iwaizumi, as the man returns. He takes his own coat, as Iwaizumi helps Tooru into his.

“Hey, hey,” Tooru reaches out to grab the sides of Tetsurou’s face, before Iwaizumi can pull him away. He squishes his cheeks together. “I love you.”

Tetsurou grins as much as he can with his mouth smushed. “Yeah, yeah, love you too,” he mumbles.

Tooru nods, satisfied. “Iwa-chaaaan, carry me home?”

“Like hell I’m going to carry you all the way back to the apartment,” Iwaizumi says, shaking his head.

“But you’re a firefighter! You carry people all the time!”

“Yeah, short distances.”

“Ohhh, so you don’t think you’re strong enough?”

“Fuck you,” Iwaizumi says, grabbing Tooru and flinging him over his shoulder.

Tooru cackles with laughter, waving at Tetsurou, as he’s carted away.

“I’ll see you Monday, Tetsu-chaaaan!”

Tetsurou waves back with a grin, but as Iwaizumi and Tooru disappear around the corner, a chill settles into his bones that has nothing to do with the weather. He pulls his coat tighter around him anyway, and makes his way down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, toward his apartment.

He staggers slightly as he goes, swaying back and forth. He must’ve had more to drink than he realized. His thoughts are muggy, but he keeps his focus on getting to bed and curling up with Kiki.

Turning a corner, he runs into someone. He grabs the person’s arms to steady himself, stumbling as the ground rocks beneath his feet. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “Are you . . . are you okay?”

“Kuroo?”

Tetsurou blinks rapidly, as his vision swims. He peers down at the person he’s still holding, taking in the badly dyed hair covered by a beanie with a red pom-pom, the small pink lips, and the luminous golden eyes . . . glowing in the orange lamplight.

It’s the kid. The kid from the train. What is he doing here? He’s not supposed to be out here. He’s only ever on the train . . .

He’s not even wearing his red hoodie, or his backpack. His coat is dark, his sweater a light gray underneath. He’s wearing jeans that actually fit him, and Tetsurou wonders glumly if he was just on a date. He even smells nicer than usual . . . not that Tetsurou’s ever sniffed him, of course.

“You . . . you. It’s you,” Tetsurou says, pointing at the kid’s face.

“Yeah, it’s me,” the kid says, nodding slowly. “And you’re plastered.”

“Yeah, um . . . do you-do you live around here?” Tetsurou asks, peering at the kid, trying to wrap his head around seeing him out of his usual context. Is he dreaming? Hallucinating, maybe?

“Not far,” the kid says cagily. “I was meeting a friend.”

“Ah.” So he was on a date.

No, stupid, he said friend.

He wouldn’t smell this nice for just a friend.

“Um . . . are you okay?” the kid is watching him warily now, and he takes a step back. “You look like shit.”

“I’m going to throw up,” Tetsurou announces, before doing just that.

The kid wrinkles his nose in disgust, taking another step back. He doesn’t run away, though, and when Tetsurou stumbles to the side, he reaches out to grab his arm, steadying him.

“Come on,” he says, slotting himself against Tetsurou’s side, draping Tetsurou’s arm across his shoulders. “Where do you live?”

Tetsurou gives him the address, and everything feels hazy, as the kid leads him down the sidewalk. He registers the warmth of the boy’s body against his, the way they fit so neatly together. Their height difference is perfect.

“We fit like Tetris pieces,” he says, which somehow doesn’t feel weird to say. It feels right.

The kid doesn’t reply.

Tetsurou doesn’t remember much of what happens next. He knows he makes it home, that he lets the kid into his apartment, and that he somehow ends up in bed. The next thing he knows, he’s waking up to the smell of coffee and rice. He opens his eyes, grimacing at the light streaming through the window. He’s still wearing his clothes from the night before, sans shoes, and he peers at his watch. It’s already almost noon.

He sits up, but falls back a second later, holding his aching head with a groan.

“Remind me never to let Tooru talk me into drinking that much again,” he tells Kiki.

“Who’s Tooru?”

“Holy fucking shit!” Tetsurou nearly falls off the bed, catching himself at the last minute by slamming his hand against his bedside table, rattling it alarmingly. There, seated on his desk chair, knees pulled up to his chest, is the kid from the train.

Tetsurou stares at him, completely dumbfounded. The kid frowns back at him.

“You almost knocked over your breakfast.”

Tetsurou looks to the side, his heart still racing. His fingers are centimeters from a tray holding a mug of coffee and a bowl of steaming rice, an egg sizzling on top of it. He stares at this for a moment, before turning his gaze back onto the kid.

“You made me breakfast.”

The kid shrugs, eyes flickering to the side. Tetsurou sits up slowly, pulling the tray closer, as he leans against the backboard of the bed. The kid picks at the cuffs of his jeans, which aren’t as nice as they appeared last night, the blue faded and the cuffs frayed.

“Why are you here?” Tetsurou tries again.

The kid bites his lip. “You looked really shitty last night. Just wanted to make sure you’d be okay.”

“You don’t even know me.”

The kid falls silent.

“You won’t even tell me your name,” Tetsurou reminds him helplessly.

“Kozume,” the kid mumbles against his knees. “Kenma.”

Something akin to relief floods over him. A name. Finally. He picks up the coffee mug and takes a drink.

“Kozume Kenma,” he says slowly, sounding it out. “Kozume Kenma.”

“Don’t wear it out,” Kozume says, and Tetsurou wonders if that’s a blush he sees creeping along his cheeks.

Tetsurou grins. “Sorry. I’ve just been wracking my brain ever since we ran into each other, putting different names together to see which one fit. I kinda liked how Takato sounded, but Kenma’s pretty cute too.”

“Ugh,” Kozume drops his forehead onto his knees.

Tetsurou’s grin slips. “Sorry. Did I fuck up again?”

Kozume lifts his head with a frown. “No,” he says, lowering his feet to the floor and standing. “You should eat.”

“Are you leaving?” Tetsurou asks, moving to set the tray aside.

“I . . .” Kozume stands frozen, his fingers curling into the cuffs of his sweater.

Tetsurou hesitates, unsure if he should stand and approach him or not.

“Look, I . . . realize this is really unorthodox and probably kinda creepy but . . . I’d like you to stay. We can, you know, actually talk and not have to worry about the train station arriving.” He bites his lip, gnawing on it worriedly. He can’t read Kozume’s expression, and he’s tilted his face toward the floor, shielding himself behind his hair.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just . . . thought this would be a good opportunity to actually get to know each other.” Tetsurou blinks, realizing suddenly that getting to know him might not even be something Kozume wants. Has he been harassing Kozume all this time? Has Kozume just been indulging him because he thought he was intimidating?

“I mean, if you want to,” he says quickly. “I’ll totally understand if you’re not comfortable with that. If you want to leave, you can go. I won’t bother you anymore, I promise.”

Kozume looks at him now, and his brows come together in a confused expression that’s completely adorable. Tetsurou’s stomach hollows out, and he tries to ignore how loudly his heart is drumming in his ears.

“You don’t bother me,” Kozume says slowly, shaking his head.

Tetsurou blinks. “I haven’t been making you uncomfortable?” he asks hopefully.

“Maybe a little at the beginning,” Kozume says with a one-shoulder shrug. “But I wouldn’t have stayed here overnight if I thought you were some kind of creep or something.”

Tetsurou breathes a sigh of relief, trying to get his heart rate back to normal. “About that . . . do you need to call your . . . parents or something?”

Kozume tilts his head, another faint frown wrinkling his brow. “My parents?”

Please say this means you’re an adult . . .

“Uh, yeah. I mean, you were gone all night . . .”

Kozume snorts what might be a laugh. “How young do you think I am?”

Tetsurou grins sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure,” he admits. “I’ve been hoping not as young as you could be?”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Oh shit,” Tetsurou says with a laugh, relief once more easing the tension throughout his body. “I’m so sorry.”

Kozume shrugs. “People always think I’m younger.”

“You’re only a year younger than me,” Tetsurou says with a faint grin.

“That’s kind of creepy.”

Tetsurou loses the grin immediately. “Shit, sorry.”

Kozume snorts again, rolling his eyes. “I’m messing with you.” He walks back over to the chair, sitting down and clutching the seat with his hands, as he hunches forward. His gaze moves pointedly toward the breakfast tray.

Tetsurou turns to his food, pulling it into his lap and taking a bite. It’s rather good, and as he eats a companionable silence falls. Kozume continues to watch him, which is a little unnerving, but Tetsurou’s just glad he hasn’t run away . . . yet.

“No phone?” he asks after a moment, realizing he hasn’t seen Kozume pull it out once.

“Battery’s dead,” Kozume replies, sitting back and fiddling with the cuffs of his sweater.

“Oh. You can use my charger if you want.” Tetsurou turns to his bedside table to reach for his phone, only to find an unfamiliar phone in its place. He laughs. “Looks like you already found it.”

“You were sleeping. I figured you didn’t need it.” There’s no remorse or embarrassment in Kozume’s voice, only fact.

Tetsurou grins. “Does this mean I can ask you questions now?”

Kozume hesitates only briefly before shrugging. Guessing that’s not a “no” at least, Tetsurou soldiers on.

“So I know your name and age now, and you know mine . . . where do you work? Or . . . are you going to school?”

Kozume shakes his head. “I work in IT.”

“Oh, cool. You must be pretty smart then.”

Kozume shrugs again. “I guess.”

“Do you like working there? I mean, is that what you always wanted to be when you grew up? An IT guy?”

Kozume rolls his eyes. “Does anybody want to be an IT guy?”

Tetsurou grins. “What did you want to be then?”

Kozume narrows his eyes. “You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t!”

“Yes, you will.”

“I promise I won’t.” Even as Tetsurou says it, though, he’s biting back another grin.

Kozume studies him closely. “I wanted to live in a video game.”

Tetsurou can’t help it. He laughs. “What, like, inside a video game?” he asks.

Kozume pouts, his lower lip jutting out slightly. It’s adorable, and Tetsurou has to take a drink of coffee to steady himself.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time. Life would be simple. I wouldn’t have to worry about making mistakes, ‘cause I could just start things over again. And I wouldn’t have to talk to people if I didn’t want to, and nobody would bother me because nobody ever talks to the main character unless it talks to them first. They wouldn’t even know I was there unless I approached them.”

Tetsurou tilts his head to the side, studying him. “You like being invisible. Is that why you’re always hiding behind your hair and your hoodie?”

Kozume ducks his head, looking to the side and effectively hiding once more. “I get anxious if my field of vision is too wide,” he mutters. “If I see people looking at me . . . I start wondering what they’re thinking about me. I don’t like people, but . . . I still care about what they think, I guess. It’s stupid.”

“Everyone has something they’re anxious about,” Tetsurou says, setting his coffee mug down on the tray. “Mine is my crippling fear of failure.” He grins, nonchalantly.

Kozume looks up at him skeptically. “Yet you work in advertising?”

Tetsurou blinks, his grin disappearing. “How did you know that?”

Kozume’s gaze skitters away again. “Uh. I looked through your things while you were asleep.”

Tetsurou barks an incredulous laugh. “Do you often take drunk guys home and go through their stuff?”

Kozume flushes, frowning. “No,” he says sullenly. “I was just . . . curious.”

“You could’ve just asked me,” Tetsurou says pointedly.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to stay . . .”

“Did you sleep at all?” Tetsurou asks suddenly, hoping he hadn’t been sitting in the chair all night.

“A little. I don’t sleep much.”

“That’s terrible for your health.”

Kozume shrugs again.

Tetsurou sets aside his tray; the bowl and mug now empty. “I’m serious, Kozume. You could get really sick. You need sleep. There’s medication and stuff you can take to help with that. You don’t want—”

“Kenma.”

Tetsurou stops, blinking. “What?”

“You can call me Kenma.” Kozume, Kenma, blinks back at him slowly.

Tetsurou finds himself staring, his heart pounding faster in his chest. “Uh,” he says, intelligently, his brain completely shorting out.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kenma says, rolling his eyes.

“It’s pretty familiar for practical strangers,” Tetsurou feels the need to point out.

“You’re not a stranger,” Kenma says, gaze turning toward the floor.

Tetsurou is about to ask why he thinks so, when Kenma’s phone buzzes on the table beside him. Tetsurou turns toward the sound instinctively, and sees the screen light up with a text.

Shouyou
Message: Are you still at his place??? The train guy??? Text me every…

Tetsurou reaches for it, wondering if he read that correctly. Faster than Tetsurou can fully process, Kenma launches himself across the room, landing in Tetsurou’s lap, as he snatches the phone away from him.

“What the fuck?” Tetsurou laughs in reflex, completely shocked and bewildered as to what just happened.

Kenma sits up, kneeling beside him on the bed, his face red. He clutches the phone in his hand, the mug overturned on the tray next to him. Tetsurou blinks at him, his lips twisting into a smirk before he can stop them.

“Train guy?”

“Shut up,” Kenma says, scowling.

Tetsurou sits up further, bringing his face closer to Kenma’s. His heart is pounding in his chest, blood rushing in his ears, but Kenma’s not leaning away. He only turns his face away, hiding behind his hair once more. Hesitantly, Tetsurou reaches up to tuck the strands behind his ear.

“You’ve told people about me?” he asks, still smirking. He can feel it shifting into a smile.

“No,” Kenma mutters.

“You told someone.”

“Just Shouyou.”

“Still.” Tetsurou grins, stomach fluttering.

Kenma looks back at him, still frowning. Tetsurou shoves down every anxiety, no easy feat, as he moves his hand once more to touch the side of Kenma’s face, trailing his fingertips down the line of his jaw. Kenma doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. It doesn’t make Tetsurou’s anxiety ease, but the lack of negative reaction gives him courage to continue. He moves his hand down to hold the side of Kenma’s neck, stroking his jawline with his thumb.

“Tell me to stop if I’m making you uncomfortable,” he murmurs, as he leans closer.

Kenma says nothing. Heart threatening to burst out of his ribcage, Tetsurou closes the gap between them and kisses Kenma gently. He feels like he’s about to choke, or something, so he doesn’t linger. Simply presses softly for a few seconds before pulling away.

Kenma is still staring, apparently not having closed his eyes at all. Tetsurou’s heart sinks into his churning stomach, and he wonders if he’s gotten everything wrong.

“Sorry,” he backpedals. “Shit, I’m—”

“Your breath stinks.”

Tetsurou’s panic grinds to a halt. “What?”

Kenma’s lips twitch in what might be a smile, or a smirk.

“You really enjoy messing with people, don’t you?” Tetsurou says with a weak laugh.

Kenma shrugs, gaze skittering away. “I’d seen you before. On the train, I mean.”

Tetsurou stares. So many things are happening right now, he’s not sure how to follow it all. He feels overwhelmed, and his heart keeps stuttering and racing in the unhealthiest of ways. Nobody has made him feel so much at once before. It’s insane.

“What do you mean?” he asks, blankly.

Kenma huffs. “That day you bumped into me . . . that wasn’t the first time I saw you. You’d taken that train before . . . a few times in the summer. It was always crowded so you never saw me, I guess, but I could always find you because of your hair.”

Tetsurou reaches toward his head instinctively. Then the implication of Kenma’s words hit him, and he gapes openly.

“You . . . you were watching me before I was watching you?”

A deep flush is crawling up Kenma’s neck and face, but he nods.

“How come you never said anything? How come you kept running away from me and wouldn’t talk to me?” Tetsurou asks helplessly.

Kenma squints at him. “You’re kind of intimidating.”

“Oh. Right.” Tetsurou rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, guessing that figures.

“But then you started talking, and you weren’t anymore.”

Despite the veiled insult, Tetsurou can’t help but laugh. “Hey!”

Kenma smirks faintly.

“But wait,” Tetsurou says, realizing something. “You still didn’t talk to me much even after I made a fool of myself.”

Kenma looks down at his phone, turning it over and over in his hands. “I got . . . nervous, I guess. I didn’t want you to get to know me and then decide I was boring or . . . mean or something. I didn’t want you to lose interest.”

“So you were playing hard to get,” Tetsurou grins.

Kenma wrinkles his nose. Tetsurou’s stomach flutters. “I guess.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re boring,” Tetsurou insists, reaching to place his hands over Kenma’s. They grow still under his touch, and he pulls the phone out of Kenma’s grasp, setting it aside in order to take his hands and hold them. “I don’t know what it is, really, but your presence is soothing. It’s nice. Just sitting here in silence was comforting. Just knowing you were there, you know? I mean, I have Kiki but she’s not really . . . I mean, she’s a cat. Sometimes you just ache for another human, you know?”

Kenma’s watching him, features blank, eyes deep and piercing, revealing nothing.

Tetsurou’s chest is tightening, not knowing what Kenma’s thinking, or how he’s going to take any of this. “What I’m saying is, you don’t have to be super outgoing or live an exciting life for me to be interested. I mean, I might not be able to sit still for hours, but we could go for walks, go out for coffee, see a movie, have some drinks . . . hell, I’ll play video games with you, if you want. Fair warning, though, I really suck at them.” He tries for a smile, tilting his head slightly.

“Okay,” Kenma says after a moment.

Tetsurou’s grin widens, as the weight on his chest lifts, and a wave of relief and elation washes over him. “Okay.”

He leans forward, emboldened by Kenma’s assent, but finds a palm pressing against his face.

“I was serious about your breath,” Kenma says, and Tetsurou can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Mean,” Tetsurou complains, but he moves to get out of bed anyway. Grabbing the tray, he goes to the kitchen to set everything in the sink. His head is still pounding slightly, but the food helped. He takes a couple aspirin, glancing over his shoulder at the bedroom. Is this all a dream? Is he going to go back in there and find Kenma’s disappeared?

For the first time in a long time he’s faced with the possibility of not being alone forever. Well, maybe forever is too much to hope for, currently. He has no idea if Kenma will want to stick around that long. He might decide next week he can’t handle Tetsurou’s issues and bolt.

But then again, he might not.

Tetsurou makes his way to the bathroom, taking a quick shower and brushing his teeth thoroughly. When he gets back into the room, hair still damp and hanging low in his face, he doesn’t see Kenma immediately, and his chest seizes painfully.

But then he hears a soft snicker and turns to find Kenma behind him.

“You’re still here,” he says, knowing he sounds stupid.

“You look different with your hair down,” Kenma says, stepping closer and peering up at his face.

Tetsurou’s breath catches at his proximity. “Don’t get used to it,” he says with a faint smirk. “It’ll be back to its ridiculous state in a couple hours.”

Kenma reaches up, using both hands to push his hair back from his face. Tetsurou blinks back at him, realizing that this might be the first time Kenma’s seen his entire face. He grows suddenly anxious, remembering his conversation with Tooru about a month ago. Does Kenma think he’s good-looking? He mentioned before about being intimidated at first . . .

“Do I pass inspection, officer?” he asks, trying to break the tension.

Kenma smirks. “Mm, I might have to inspect more closely.”

Tetsurou’s brain short-circuits. “Did you just—”

Kenma cuts him off with a kiss, rising up on his toes to do so effectively. Tetsurou’s suddenly aware of the press of soft lips against his, the warmth of a slender yet compact body leaning against him. He remembers to reciprocate after a moment, placing his hands on Kenma’s waist and bending down so Kenma doesn’t have to remain on his toes.

He melts into the kiss, closing his eyes, losing himself to it. He hasn’t been kissed in years, and the familiar comfort of the gesture hits him full-force. He feels it like a punch to his gut, that yearning to be close to someone, to be intimate with them. To lean and feel them lean back.

He steps backwards, pulling Kenma with him into the bedroom without breaking the kiss. Kenma’s fingers dig further into his hair, and Tetsurou murmurs against his lips, parting them, sliding between Kenma’s to deepen the kiss. He feels the lick of Kenma’s tongue against him, and his grip tightens, as he opens further, trembling as Kenma licks inside. He’s warm and wet, and Tetsurou’s fingers curl into his sweater, as he meets Kenma’s tongue with his own as best he can.

His blood is rushing through him, loud in his ears. His entire body feels flushed. He pulls away, gasping, knowing this will cross a line if he doesn’t stop them.

“I really . . . really want this with you,” he admits breathlessly, pressing his forehead against Kenma’s.

Kenma pauses, trailing his fingers through Tetsurou’s hair, nails scraping gently at his scalp. Tetsurou shivers.

“But I can’t . . . I’m not the type of person who can just . . . do this and not feel anything,” he admits reluctantly.

Kenma tilts his head, kissing the edge of Tetsurou’s jaw before pulling away. His hands slide out of Tetsurou’s hair, landing on his shoulders lightly.

“So we wait,” he says softly, like it’s no big deal.

“That’s okay?” Tetsurou asks, heart still drumming in his ears.

“I want this with you too,” Kenma admits, eyes still fixed on his.

Tetsurou grins, relief making his knees weak. “Are you real? Like, I’m not going to go to sleep tonight and discover this was all just a dream, am I?”

Kenma smirks. “I guess we’ll see.”

Kenma unfortunately has to leave an hour later, but they exchange phone numbers and Tetsurou tries not to be anxious about the next day. When the meet on the train, will he act like he did before? Will he pretend none of this happened?

“Dude, relax. He spent the night. He admitted he’s been watching you since summer! I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Tooru assures him later that night, as Tetsurou angsts about the next morning.

“I know, but . . . I really don’t want to fuck this up,” Tetsurou admits.

“Tetsu, you need to forget about what happened with Hitoka-chan. Didn’t she even tell you she didn’t want to break up?”

“Yeah, but . . . she was happier with them, Oikawa. I could tell. I didn’t . . . I couldn’t make her light up like that.”

“But that wasn’t your fault,” Tooru insists. “It wasn’t because of anything you did or didn’t do. You just didn’t . . . click as well.”

“Yakkun . . .”

“Yaku wasn’t ready for commitment. Again, not your fault.”

Tetsurou sighs. “You’ve never had this issue. You’ve always had Iwaizumi.”

“It’s not like it’s always been easy for us either,” Tooru says pointedly. “But things are good right now with Kozume-kun, so don’t shoot yourself in the foot worrying about what ifs. Besides, if something does happen, you’ll have the Wonderful and Amazing Oikawa Tooru to tell you what to do to fix things.”

“Right,” Tetsurou says, chuckling quietly.

“You’ve got this,” Tooru says encouragingly. “And invite him to our lunch! I want to meet him!”

“Yeah, I’m not going to let you scare away the only potential suitor I have.”

“I’m not going to scare him away! And don’t say suitor, you sound like an old man.”

Tetsurou does feel better after speaking to Tooru; he usually does. Kenma did show interest in him, so it wouldn’t make sense if he went back to pretending like they were strangers, just ships passing in the night each day at 0800 and 1800.

He carries that hope with him to bed, and the next morning he tries to not appear desperate, as he scans the train for signs of Kenma.

There he is, in his red hoodie and backpack, reaching for the railing above him absently, as his eyes remain on his phone in his other hand. No available seats are left, so Tetsurou grins and steps up next to Kenma. He grabs hold of the railing, taking Kenma’s hand with his free one to place it on his bicep.

“Good thing I’m here, huh?” he grins.

Kenma glances up at him, a brief smile flickering across his lips, before he switches his expression into one of disinterest. “I would’ve managed.”

“Managed to fall on your face,” Tetsurou laughs.

Kenma rolls his eyes, but he does curl his fingers into Tetsurou’s arm, stepping closer in the crowded train. He smells good. He’s never smelled good on the train before. Not like this. Tetsurou can’t help but tilt his head, pressing his nose behind Kenma’s ear and sniffing softly.

“Is that for my benefit?” he murmurs, smirking.

Kenma’s skin grows warm, and he keeps his gaze on his phone. Tetsurou snickers, and he gets an elbow in the sternum for his trouble. Despite the pain, he’s happy. Happy in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. When they arrive at Kenma’s stop, Tetsurou grabs his hand before he can slip away.

“You want to grab lunch today?” he asks. “I’ll come to you. Just text me the time and place.”

Kenma gives him a contemplative look before turning away. “Okay,” he says, as he steps off the train.

Tetsurou’s phone buzzes in his pocket a second later.

He smiles.